


Red

by Lady_Blade_WarAngel



Series: JB Week 2015 - Colours! [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cute Kids, F/M, Fluff, Love, The Long Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4941124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Blade_WarAngel/pseuds/Lady_Blade_WarAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne reminisce about the good and bad they've experiences under the colour red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, Day 2 of the JB Appreciation Week, Colour RED! I hope you all enjoy the read. Thanks to all those people who commented, read and left kudos on the first part of this series. I really appreciate it. I hope this one shot will be just as good.

 Red.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

Jaime’s favourite colour was blue. But Red was a close second. For Jaime, red had always been a part of his life.

Red was one of the colours of his house sigil.

Red was the colour that had adorned his home and his family, and red was the colour of the first goblet of wine he’d ever tasted. (It was Dornish Red, and he and Cersei had snuck the goblet at a feast celebrating their father’s nameday, when their mother was still alive, and heavy with Tyrion)

But red was also the colour of the blood that spilled over the steps of the Iron Throne, and his sword, when Jaime had killed Aerys.

Red was the colour of Bran Stark’s blood against the snow when Jaime had pushed him out of that tower window, expecting the boy to die. But he lived. He lived still. Jaime wasn’t sure what he felt about that.

Red haunted Jaime, more than he wanted it to, more than he ever thought it could.

But now, years after the great war, in Evenfall Hall, Jaime saw red as something different.

Red was the colour of Brienne’s flush, when he said something flirtatious.

Red was the colour of her lips, the first time he had kissed her, and kissed her, and hadn’t been made to stop kissing her.

Red was the colour of the cloak he had placed on her shoulders, the maiden’s blood on their sheets, even though that had happened before the wedding. But many people enjoyed beddings before weddings and with the war going on, neither had thought they would live long enough to wed. They’d spilt more of their own blood in the snow, than they had of the White Walkers.

Red was Oathkeeper, placed upon the mantle in their chambers, still bright and beautiful, and twisted with black, even though twenty years had passed since Brienne had used it in battle.

Red was the colour of their screaming babes, when each had come into the world, red faced and with a strong set of lungs. Jaime had been there for the birth of each child. He had been there when each was sick, when they were hurt, when they were screaming their heads off as their teeth came through. Jaime had held them, rocked them, told them stories and protected them like sapphires and rubies. They were precious to him, more precious than almost anything in the world. For all he had missed out on with Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen, Jaime had with his trueborn children. He loved them so well. He often tried not to reminisce on what Cersei had forced him to step aside from. Sometimes he couldn’t help it. But most of the time, he was content with his life.

Red was more than blood now.

Red was more than a Lannister colour.

Red was a part of Jaime’s life that he would not change.

Finally, red was the colour, quartered with blue, on the new arms of Tarth. Houses Lannister and Tarth had combined to make a new whole, with moons and starbursts, and a golden lion in the middle, on quartered blue and red.

Their standard flew proudly from the towers of Evenfall Hall, even the day his first born daughter, Joanna was wed to the son of Edmure and Roslin Tully. Young Brynden Tully had red hair like the whole Tully family.

Red was the hair colour of Jaime’s first grandchild. A little girl named for his beloved wife. But that granddaughter had Brienne’s blue eyes, just as Joanna did. Her eyes were not Tully blue, even if her hair was Tully red.

Most of Jaime’s fondest memories had become red. But the fondest memory of them all was the day he finally convinced Brienne that he _wanted_ to wed her.

_The sun was red on the horizon. It had risen, the White Walkers were vanquished, the long night was over. Winterfell had been rebuilt, all was right with the world. Jaime had searched everywhere for Brienne, had found her in the Sept. The windows were of stained glass, but the red of the newly risen sun gave the Sept a ruddy, tinted, warm glow._

_“Have you been here all this time?” Jaime asked her. She was looking at the altars of the Sept. The statues had been burned during Theon’s sack of Winterfell, and had been replaced only recently. Their stern faces made Jaime wonder who had carved them. Brienne looked at him, a strange look on her face._

_“Yes. I suppose I have.” Brienne replied softly. She turned back to her perusal of the Sept. The original altars still stood, because they were carved from stone, carved into the ground, so none could move them or burn them. Jaime found himself behind Brienne. He hadn’t even realised that he had walked forward, until his arms were around her waist, his chin tilted up to rest on her shoulder. He felt Brienne’s hands move to his own hand and stump, and simply rest there._

_“Why are you hiding away, my lady?” Jaime asked her. Brienne turned in his arms, but slowly enough that Jaime could adjust his grip. She wasn’t pushing him away. She never had pushed him away. It made her a better woman than Cersei. Cersei had been revolted by him once he lost his hand. Brienne would often kiss his stump, her red lips in contrast with the pink scarring on his skin._

_“I’m not hiding away Jaime. But I am also not your lady.” Brienne replied. Jaime felt confusion then._

_“Of course you are. You are my lady, lady Brienne of Tarth.” Jaime said. Brienne gave Jaime a sad look then._

_“To you, yes. To the rest of the world, no. To the rest of the world I am your whore. While the war was going on, no one cared. Now they will.” Brienne said. She seemed to be contemplating something. Jaime wasn’t sure what it could be, but he was worried by the look in her eyes, blue sapphires glinting against the red tint that fell over everything else._

_“Then let me marry you.” Jaime stated firmly. Brienne looked as though she didn’t believe him. “I’ve asked you before, many times, and you refused, claiming the war as an excuse.” Jaime added. Brienne wrapped her arms around Jaime. She buried her face into his shoulder. It had taken a long time for Brienne to be so at ease around him, and Jaime wouldn’t have traded this for anything, including his sword hand._

_“But do you wish to marry me because that is_ your _wish, or is it because you feel you must preserve my honour?” Brienne asked. Jaime blinked, looking at Brienne in confusion. Her eyes stared into his own green eyes. He noticed how the reddish light was making them look covered in the warmth of a roaring fireplace, it was a peaceful red. “If it’s just for honour, than I prefer you not make such an offer.” Brienne added, her eyes glancing away. Jaime knew that Brienne was insecure, and that the way she’d been treated her whole life hadn’t helped. But he also knew that he wanted to marry her. All he had to do was convince her of the honesty of his words._

_“Not that I don’t care about your honour, my lady.” Jaime started. “But I wish to wed you, because I cannot see my life without you in it. I wish to wed you because I love you, and I’ve nearly lost you many times. I will not lose you now when this bloody war is finally over, and there is peace throughout the land. I would wed you, because I don’t think there is anything else that I could want more.” Jaime told Brienne firmly. Brienne smiled as her lips met his, and suddenly, the kisses were furious. Jaime had her pinned against the wall, kissing her like this was the last kiss he would ever have. They were so lost in each other that they only separated after a cough sounded from the doorway. Jaime wanted to laugh as Brienne blushed furiously at the sight of Lady Sansa Stark, standing in the doorway, a large grin on her face._

_“I’d rather you not desecrate the Sept. I suppose it’s not much of one anymore, but my mother was fond of this place.” Sansa said. Her smile didn’t disappear however and it reached her eyes._

_“Well, Lady Stark, if there is a Septon hidden around here somewhere, we might just grace your humble Sept with a wedding.” Jaime said. Sansa’s eyes went wide, and her eyes sparkled with joy. Her smile grew wider and she laughed happily._

_“I’ll find one. Don’t move. I’ve been waiting for you two to marry for far too long.” Sansa said firmly, as she ran off to find a Septon. Jaime looked at Brienne, who was still blushing._

_“How do you know if I’m agreeing to your proposal Ser?” Brienne asked._

_“The kiss said it all, my lady. But if you wish to refuse, that would be your choice.” Jaime said. His heart clenched at the very thought, but he knew he had to let Brienne choose for herself. Brienne shook her head, her eyes glinting with amusement._

_“How could the answer be anything else but yes?” Brienne said. Jaime found himself kissing her again._

Yes, they had married that very morning, as the sun rose over the horizon. A Septon called Meribald, from the Riverlands, someone that Brienne had met on her journeys, had performed the wedding ceremony. Jaime couldn’t help being fond of the colour red, when it had blanketed the Sept in a crimson glow as he placed his Lannister cloak around Brienne’s shoulders. Even now, as he watched his children training, his youngest child sat beside him, watching her brothers and sisters and bouncing excitedly atop her barrel seat, Jaime made sure to keep an arm around her so that she wouldn’t fall.

Yes, Jaime did love the colour red, even if it was second only to the blue of his wife’s eyes.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

Brienne sometimes wondered whether she loved or hated the colour red. As a child, she had most definitely hated it.

Red had not been kind to her as a child.

Red had been the colour of the bed sheets that had been taken from her dead mother’s room, after she’d birthed her little sister, who had died shortly after.

Red had been the colour of her father’s eyes, as he wept and mourned the loss of his wife and his daughter. Brienne’s eyes had also been red. But she barely remembered that time clearly. Only that she had lost her mother and little sister, and that she and Galladon wept together, not being separated. That was all she remembered of that time.

Red had been the colour of the sheet thrown over her older brother’s body after he had drowned, so that Brienne would not see his corpse, bloated and unrecognisable like the ones she’s seen in the Riverlands, on her search for Sansa Stark. The death of her older brother had almost broken her heart, but she had managed to survive the grief of that as well.

Red had been the colour of Ronnet Connington’s hair, and the rose he threw at her feet when he broke their betrothal cruelly and laughed in her face. She had been oddly satisfied to know that red had been the colour of his blood, when Jaime had used his golden hand to show Ronnet how to give the proper respect to a lady.

Red had been the colour of Renly’s blood, slipping through her fingers like water, as he died in her arms.

Red had been the colour of her own blood and the terrible scar on her face, after Biter had finished his work. It still haunted her, that event at the Inn at the Crossroads, the moments that Biter had eaten a part of her face. She wasn’t sure that that would ever go away. The awful feeling had caused her nausea at first. She’d improved once at home on Tarth. It was peaceful, not too hot and Brienne felt safe there. Now that she’d finally gotten home, she was only plagued by nightmares, not any of them the sort of dream that anyone would want.

But red represented good as well as bad for Brienne. For when she wed Jaime, he threw a cloak of crimson around her shoulders.

Red was the colour of sunrise and sunset over the ocean, every day that she had been home on Tarth after the war had ended. Brienne was sure she’d never seen any natural thing that was more beautiful.

Red was the colour of Oathkeeper, the sword sat on the mantle in Brienne’s shared chambers with her lord husband. Brienne never told Jaime, but she would often practise with the red and black blade, whilst she watched over the training yard from her chamber windows. She watched Jaime train their children three times a week. Brienne would train them the other days.

Red had been the colour of her son Gerion’s hand when he’d accidentally cut it, trying to play with a real sword that he wasn’t quite ready for. It was the colour of the scar that lay across his palm now, as Brienne saw her grown son enter tourneys.

Red was the colour of her first born children, her twins, Joanna and Galladon, as they came into the world.

Red was the colour of the blush that graced the cheeks of all her children as their teeth came through.

Red was the colour of Brienne’s eyes and her nose, as she had cried in Jaime’s arms, when her youngest son, Tyrion, had nearly drowned in the same waters that took her brother. But it had been dear Pod, who had rushed into the water and pulled Tyrion out, and saved his life. Pod, who had pushed on her six year old son’s chest, to get the water out of him so that he would breathe. Brienne had never been so frightened for her children’s lives, or so grateful as she was that day, that her youngest lived.

Red was the colour of Jaime’s face, the day he’d caught their second daughter, Arianne, kissing Eddard Stark, the only son and child of Robb Stark and Jeyne Westerling. He’d been absolutely furious. Brienne remembered that well.

_“I cannot believe that she would be kissing boys in the stables!” Jaime raged. Brienne merely sat on their bed, leaning against the bed post, as Jaime paced back and forth, like a lion in a cage._

_“Jaime, Arianne is one and ten. Some girls are married by now. Most are betrothed.” Brienne said. Jaime spun around to glare, his eyes glittering, the red of his tunic rumpled as he paced._

_“Not_ my _daughter!” Jaime exclaimed. “I’ll bloody lock her in the north tower until she’s six and ten if I have to!” Jaime added._

_“Jaime, she just gave him a kiss on the cheek. Besides, I thought you liked little Ned.” Brienne said._

_“That was before that little wolf brat kissed my daughter!” Jaime exclaimed._

_“He didn’t kiss her if I recall correctly. We were both heading to the stables and saw what happened you know.” Brienne corrected._

_“You didn’t see the look in his eyes Brienne. If he wasn’t two and ten, I’d have got my sword out and given him a good thrashing!” Jaime exclaimed. Brienne laughed._

_“Jaime! This is nothing to get worked up over. Arianne is just growing up. You know all of them are going to grow up eventually. You can’t just fight any boy who comes along. The girls won’t thank you for it.” Brienne said softly. Jaime pouted._

_“I’m sure you like to take all the fun out of it.” Jaime muttered, as he collapsed on the bed, beside Brienne. He looked at her, a glint in his eyes. “How about we make some more daughters?” Jaime asked. Brienne felt her face turn red. She rested a hand on his cheek._

_“We might already be in the process of that Jaime.” Brienne said. Jaime’s eyes went wide and then he grinned and pulled Brienne down to lie beside him on the red bedspread, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her chin, her forehead, as she giggled at the ticklish sensation of his beard on her skin. When his lips met hers, the laughter ceased, but Brienne didn’t mind that at all._

Brienne had given birth to her last child that year. Little Daena, who they were told would die, but who lived. She was four and even now, Brienne could see her sitting on a barrel in the courtyard, wearing her favourite red tunic, with blue sleeves, watching as her older brothers and sisters sparred against each other. Jaime stood beside the barrel, his handless arm around her back, so she would not fall off. Jaime was so protective of her. Daena was small, she’d been born small, but she defied everyone by living when they thought she might die. Brienne remembered the first time she had managed to nurse Daena by herself, without Daena screaming or being ill. Her little face had been red, and her big blue eyes had stared up at her mother, as she nursed.

Brienne decided that maybe, just maybe, Red was her favourite colour.

**Author's Note:**

> Well...... this was a lovely piece of fluff. I think.... I refuse to judge my own stories. LOL! I hope you all enjoyed it, and thanks those who've left me kudos and, commented and left hits. (nods) I hope that this chapter was not a disappointment, and I also hope that you'll comment and let me know what you thought.


End file.
